


hey. love u. bye.

by Clarke



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Affection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nail Polish, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 07:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clarke/pseuds/Clarke
Summary: Some things, evidently, stay the same.The seven members express their love for each other in different ways.Gently illustrated.





	hey. love u. bye.

 

He was on the couch not for a few minutes, sprawled out in the dim morning light after a long night, before the sound of bare feet on wood told him he was no longer alone.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Minhyuk taps his tongue, settling on the couch besides him. “Look at you.”

Jooheon smiles. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

He keeps his eyes shut and, soon, the cool sensation of cloth on his face draws the corners of his mouth up. Minhyuk meticulously and gently wipes the makeup from his eyes, his brows, his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he says, only for a fresh wipe to remove the tint from his lips in response.

“You’re still so pretty underneath,” Minhyuk muses, and Jooheon smiles wider.

They settle into silence, Jooheon letting his hyung clean his face off for him. The sun rose only about half an hour ago, but the birdsong has been a nonstop backdrop. When his face is clean enough, Jooheon lets his eyes creak open, and the morning light streaming through the horizontal blinds illuminates Minhyuk in strips. He catches Jooheon’s eye and smiles back, bunching the makeup wipes in his fist.

“Thank you,” Jooheon repeats, voice heavy with exhaustion. Minhyuk, instead of answering properly, reaches down to squeeze Jooheon’s hand. He can feel the callouses he’s grown. Those weren’t there before he started exercising.

“Go to bed,” he whispers, and Jooheon regards him with kind, but tired, eyes. Some things, evidently, stay the same.

  
  


 

Changkyun slips his headphones off, settling them around his neck. “It’s good,” he says, then clarifies, “Really good. I think the hook leaves something to be desired, though.”

Jooheon nods. “I was thinking that, too,” he agrees.

“I think you should do something like,” and Changkyun slides up besides Jooheon to steal the mouse, tabbing over to another open track in the production software. “Like, this bassline. It would be a little heavy, but I don’t think you’d have any problem rapping over it.”

Jooheon trusts him and lets him fiddle around in a fresh tab. “I had something similar originally, but it felt off. Like I was combining two different songs into a monster, you know?”

“You are a monster, though?” Changkyun jokes without cracking a smile.

He clicks away at the programme, copying and inserting parts from one into another experimental tab, and Jooheon glances over at him. Changkyun rubs his chin with his hand, before tapping shortcuts on the keyboard, and Jooheon is overcome with a sense of déjà vu.

The studio lights are always low, everything illuminated with the glow of the neon wall lights and the double LCDs. Changkyun, in the glow, looks almost dramatic, as serious as he’s always been, but just a touch more mature. It occurs to Jooheon all at once that the troubled kid he met some years ago is gone.

Changkyun glances sideways at him. “What are you smiling about?”

Jooheon catches his expression, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

  
  


 

Hyungwon cranes his neck to peek over Changkyun’s shoulder as he finishes polishing his pinky finger.

“Done,” he announces, pulling his hands back and capping the bottle. Hyungwon draws his hand toward him, holding it up in the light.

“Cool,” he says, turning his hand this way and that to admire his black nails. He hasn’t painted them since high school, but Changkyun offered to do him the favour.

Changkyun sets his nail varnish bottle down and turns back to his hyung. From the way his other hand is splayed out on the back of the couch, Changkyun knows he doesn't need to tell him to be careful. Hyungwon drops his head to the side, his bangs flopping over under their own weight.

“It suits you,” Changkyun states, reading his expression. Hyungwon continues staring.

“I don’t know,” he says. His eyebrows furrow and Changkyun understands immediately. It’s not an issue of image, but an issue of style. He’s trying to figure out a look that won’t be thrown off by the varnish.

“It makes you look kind of sinister,” Changkyun says. “You should wear that new jacket you bought to match.”

Hyungwon keeps staring and turning his hand. “I don’t know,” he repeats. Changkyun watches him regard his nails with curious deliberation, with nothing to betray his nerves but his impatiently tapping thumbs. He watches his expression carefully until Hyungwon lifts his eyes and meets his gaze.

“Maybe if I wore those thick frames?” Hyungwon suggests.

Bingo. Changkyun nods.

  
  


 

He had been scrolling passively through fancafe when the post went up. It wasn’t so much a conscious thought as a gut reaction. The timing was perfect and he was already out. Might as well.

When his food arrives, he forgoes rushing back up the stairs and heads in the direction of Hoseok’s studio, glad it’s not too far but keeping his pace brisk in the late winter chill. Hyungwon thinks he really should have put on more than sandals, maybe even a pair of socks, but he didn’t expect he’d be going for a walk when he ran out to retrieve his delivery food.

He swings by the convenience store on the way, picking up a pair of iced teas. Hoseok usually likes the bitter barley tea, though he recently prefers sweet raspberry, so he buys one of each.

Hyungwon calls his cell when he’s right outside the building, bouncing in his spot to try and stay warm.

“Hi,” Hoseok answers.

“Lemme in, please,” Hyungwon begs.

Moments later, Hoseok is surprised to see him, holding open the door to the building. “What are you doing here?”

“Cold,” Hyungwon practically dances in, setting down his plastic bags. “It’s so cold.”

Hoseok laughs, rubbing Hyungwon’s arms down with both hands. “Why did you come all the way out here?”

“You said you were eating alone, right?” Hyungwon asks, slipping his face mask off one ear. “I brought you tea.”

Hoseok, still surprised, looks down at the bags. “Raspberry?”

“Yep.”

  
  


 

He’s still sleeping when Hoseok comes back. It's a relief, seeing him face-down on the loveseat, lightly covered with Hoseok’s favourite blanket. Hyunwoo has been running at three hundred percent the past week and Hoseok hasn't even seen him sneak naps between schedules. Two solid hours of sleep will do him nothing but good, even if it's not a full night.

He starts preparing a bowl of instant ramen, rereading the texts he and the managers exchanged, when alarmed sniffling and shuffling tells him that Hyunwoo has finally woken up.

“Shit,” he curses from the living room, and Hoseok hurries out.

“Hey! Don’t panic,” he reassures. Hyunwoo is already tangled in his blanket, halfway on the floor, when Hoseok exits the kitchen. “I went for you.”

Hyunwoo, delirious, blinks a few times. “Huh??”

“Sorry,” Hoseok says. “I was gonna wake you up, but they said it was fine if I went instead and let you rest.”

Hyunwoo rubs his face, still looking confused, but the tense horror of having overslept leaves his body and his shoulders relax. “Um,” he sniffs. “Oh. You didn't have to do that. You should have told me first.”

“I texted,” Hoseok says, bringing out his bowl.

“Ah, I’m hungry,” Hyunwoo yawns.

“I’ll make you one?”

Hyunwoo nods.

When Hoseok disappears back into the kitchen, Hyunwoo follows him in, asking, “What did you guys talk about?”

Hoseok opens his mouth to answer, but turns to see Hyunwoo’s ludicrous bedhead and instead stifles a laugh.

  
  


 

He presses his back to the wall, hands clasped behind him, head hung down while he stares at his shoes.

Kihyun is in the practice room, singing along to a backing track. The lights are all off in there, so it's possible he's recording something for fans, or just recording himself to play back later. Hyunwoo doesn't want to interrupt.

He lifts his head and lets it fall back against the wall, smiling and listening to Kihyun’s voice pour out the door and echo into the hall. He wonders if, somehow, Kihyun has still managed to improve over the last few weeks. This isn’t the way he sounds when he’s practising, when he’s projecting, not even on stage. This is how he sounds when he’s relaxed, humming a tune to himself without worry.

Outside of performances, when the demand to be perfect is gone, he likes this Kihyun a little better. But there's no elegant way to voice that, so he settles for tuning in when he can, waiting by the door for him to finish.

Two more passes later, Kihyun’s voice dies down and, after a few moments, the backing fades into silence. Hyunwoo turns and peeks through the door glass. Kihyun is sitting on the floor, legs crossed, besides the aux cable for the room speakers. He taps at his phone and Hyunwoo’s suspicions are confirmed. Carefully, he knocks on the door, drawing Kihyun’s attention before he slips in.

“Hi, Hyunwoo-hyung,” Kihyun greets. “Were you waiting long?”

  
  


 

Kihyun hurries inside, stomping the snow off his boots before leaving them by the entrance. Winter finally decided to properly blow through, right in the middle of his supply run to the store. He takes his time warming up, restocking the fridge and cabinets, wondering if anyone else is home.

He gets his answer when he walks past one of the rooms and spots Minhyuk in his bed, curled up under the covers, staring into space. He knocks on the frame.

“Hey,” he calls, and Minhyuk glances toward him.

“Hi,” he says, and Kihyun can hear the pain in his voice.

“You okay?” he asks, stepping inside.

Minhyuk shakes his head.

“What’s wrong?”

Minhyuk shifts uncomfortably under the covers. “I’m… in a lot of pain,” he whispers, and Kihyun gently places his palm under his friend’s jaw, testing his temperature. He’s not quite running a fever, but he does feel a little warm.

“Your knee?” he asks.

Minhyuk makes a displeased face, but doesn't answer beyond that.

“I’ll run out and grab you something to help,” Kihyun says, and Minhyuk grimaces.

“It’s terrible outside, don't go anywhere.”

“It’s fine,” Kihyun promises, already heading out the door. “I was going to go to the store, anyway.”

Minhyuk looks troubled but doesn’t keep him. “Be safe, please,” calls, then gently adds, “Thanks.”

Kihyun smiles over his shoulder before closing the door. Quietly, he puts his coat back on, and heads to the front door, where his wet boots wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading. I really wanted to post something, since I haven't in such a long time. I thought the illustrations would be a nice touch.
> 
> I have this problem where everything I write is too long. As a result, I've been working on a really intense story since last year. I'm hoping it'll be done in time for May. I wanted to take a small break and challenge myself. Staying under 250 words per section was tough, but I hope I captured the fleeting, instinctual acts of affection in each of these.
> 
> Thanks for reading, again. All feedback is appreciated. Hope you all have a happy Valentines Day.


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